A Thousand Words
by Sisyphean Effort
Summary: Sequel to my story "Painted Truths." Ed, Roy, and Al are visiting Liore when they run into a certain artist from Xing. What ensues is a comedy of errors involving a ruined painting, some ninja assassins, and a body guarding job that Ed really doesn't want to do. Written for LJ's FMA Big Bang. Originally 10 chapters, posted here all together. Roy/Ed, mild slash, full summary inside.


Genre: Adventure/Comedy/Romance

Rating: PG

Characters/Pairings: Roy/Ed, Alphonse, a couple of OC's

Warnings: Violence, mild language, mild yaoi

Summary: Roy, Ed, and Alphonse are all in Liore when run they run into an old painter friend from Xing who happens to be participating in Liore's annual International Arts Festival. A comedy of errors ensues involving a ruined painting, some deadly ninja assassins, and a bodyguarding job that Ed really doesn't want to do...

_A/N: This story serves as a sequel to a fic. I wrote a long time ago called "Painted Truths" which can be found at the very bottom of my profile page__. I highly recommend you read that one first. But to boil the plot down to the barest of bones: this story takes place 12 years after the original series. Ed and Roy are travelling around Amestris incognito, in an attempt to avoid detection by the Emperor of Xing, who has previously sent out assassins for them. Obviously there is a lot more to the story than that, but that is the basic premise. This story was written as an entry for LJ's FMA Big Bang and is a companion piece to a pic. done by the very talented kiiroi yumetobu (you can find her on deviant art and in my favorite authors list). I love that I was inspired enough by her picture to want to bring an old story of mine full circle. So here it is. I very much hope you enjoy it..._

"A Thousand Words"

by Sisyphean Effort

1.

The air was full of spices. The scent wafting from the stalls was almost overwhelming as it permeated the atmosphere of the outdoor market. So many flavorful dishes from so many places: Xing, Creta, Aerugo. So many savory and luscious temptations. A man with red eyes called out to those who passed by his booth, crying in a lilting accent, "Delicious curry from Ishbal! Culled from an ancient family recipe! Try it, you will not be disappointed!" A little further on just past the food stalls were merchant booths adorned with other exotic wares: sumptuous silks from the east, handmade pottery from the south, plush furs from the north. The market was alive and bustling with all kinds of activity, especially now that the yearly International Arts Festival was in full swing in Liore.

The gold light of a late morning sun glinted off the center steeple of the newly renovated Liore cathedral. The church served as the nucleus to the surrounding membrane that was the arts festival. Its bordering lanes and large brick courtyards were crowded with tents and hastily erected wooden stalls. Beneath the tents, big, brightly painted canvases on easels were standing like soldiers at attention. A sculpture that was taller than two men together caressed the woven roof of a tent. Flower sellers showed off enormous and exotic blooms, arranged so that their stall looked to be made entirely of flowers. Street musicians took up their posts along the promenade, filling the air with the tinkling notes of various instruments. A scimitar could be heard here, a lone violin there. So much sight, sound, color, and scent-the city had been turned into a glorious feast for the senses, a feast for which the people of Amestris had turned out in droves.

"Brother, come look at this!"

Edward Elric walked up behind his brother Alphonse, who was standing in front of a stall filled with eastern pottery. Alphonse held a silly-looking ceramic cat, its arm raised in a jaunty wave, its face painted with a broad, goofy smile. "What do you think?" asked Alphonse, as he possessively cradled the small statuette. "They're supposed to be for good luck." Ed actually thought the cat looked dreadful, but after catching the wistful look on Alphonse's face, he began digging around his jacket pocket for change. "Alright, how much?" said Ed to the stall owner, even as he thought morosely to himself, _I made him give up so many real cats over the years, there's no way I can say no to a fake one now. _The Amestrian coins clinked loudly on the wood as Ed plunked them down with his automail hand. The woman behind the stall glanced down at the counter and shooked her head imperiously, her colorful ear bobs rattling from side to side. Ed sighed and reached inside his pocket a second time. Before he could pull out more money, a hand reached out and stayed his wrist. Glancing up, Ed saw a chiseled profile of proud white marble and black spiky hair. Before Ed could say anything, Roy began conversing with the woman in easy, deep-voiced Xingese. The words flew back and forth between them like volleys of verbal ammo. Ed watched as Roy casually leaned into the saleswoman's stall, his head cocked and a deadly half-smile on his face. His words were low and slow, flirtatious in manner if not fully translatable. Soon the woman herself was smiling back and Ed saw that victory was imminent. After a few more verbal shots were fired, the woman finally surrendered, nodding her head eagerly and scooping the coins from the counter, leaving a few behind in token of the terms of the unnamed exchange. Roy smirked and pocketed the remaining coins. Alphonse looked delighted. "Thanks Roy!" Ed just shook his head.

"I don't know how you get away with that stuff," said Ed finally.

"What?" said Roy with feigned innocence. "The art of negotiation is a useful skill. I got rather good at it during my years in the military, if you'll recall."

"That wasn't a negotiation," sputtered Ed. "That...that...was flirting or outright ass-kissing or some such bullshit."

"And who says the two are mutually exclusive?" The confident half-smile was back. Ed felt himself succumbing to it as well, as much a victim of its charm as the woman behind the stall. _Some things will never change, _thought Ed. And Roy, oblivious to Ed's softening look, continued speaking, "Shopkeepers expect you to barter with them, Ed; it's standard practice at these outdoor markets. You should try brushing up on your verbal skills-"

"-STOP! THIEF! Someone, stop that man!"

Ed and company barely had time to turn around before a man with a wispy moustache and a beige cloak went flying by them. "Stop him!" yelled a woman with eyes lined deeply with kohl. "He has my stolen jewelry beneath that cloak! THIEF!" Without a word, Ed sprinted off in pursuit of the man, with Alphonse following close at his heels. Roy's gritted warning of, "Guys, we probably shouldn't draw attention to ourselves!" fell on deaf ears.

The thief, seeing that he now had two pursuers, began throwing objects in their path. A stall owner screeched in Aerugoan as a large vase was pulled from his booth and flung at the brothers. The vase was inches from the ground when Ed dropped head-first into a graceful roll, came up on his knees and caught it by its base. Without stopping, he lobbed it over his shoulder: "Alphonse, catch!" Alphonse caught the vase and returned it to its former place on the stall counter. "Pardon us, sir," said Alphonse with an apologetic smile as he spun around and sped off behind Ed. The stall owner merely hugged his returned merchandise in gratitude, pressing the undamaged vase lovingly to his cheek.

The crazed pursuit wreaked havoc through the market. The thief snatched up a robe of crimson silk that hung from a nearby stall and tossed that at the brothers too. There was a resounding clap and a flash of light and the sound of a knife ripping through cloth as Ed used his automail sword to neatly slice through it. A strolling minstrel was drawn into the fray, his guitar sent flying as the thief grabbed him by the collar and flung him unceremoniously into their path. Ed dropped low, winging beneath his flailing arms, while Alphonse ended up spinning the man around in an impromptu jig. "Excuse me sir!" apologized Alphonse as Ed smoothly caught the guitar and propped it up against a nearby lamp post, his gait never flagging. A few feet ahead, the mustachioed man had found an old wooden ladder propped up against the churchyard wall. He climbed to the top and dragged the ladder across with him, thinking this would be the end of the chase. But without missing a beat, Ed yelled, "Alphonse!" and Alphonse clapped and dropped to his knees by the wall. There was a flash of hazy blue light and a set of makeshift stairs appeared in the wall. Without pausing, Ed clambered up the stairs and quickly dropped down on the other side. He hit the ground just in time to see the beige hem of the thief's robes disappearing underneath the rolled canvas of one of the art exhibit's tents. "Ah-ha! No you don't!" cried Ed, and he once again used his automail sword to slice through the cloth. He bounded through the hole, but instead of landing in his usual agile, cat-like fashion, he got tangled up in the wooden legs of an easel and was sent sprawling. Ed fell face-first into a painting, the material making a terrible ripping sound as his sword sliced through the canvas. Ed collapsed in a heap beneath the tent, the easel strewn in bent and broken pieces around him. He thought he had lost the thief for good until a beige robe appeared before him and he reached out and caught it with the fingers of his flesh hand. "Ha! Gotcha!"

Silence. Nothing was said. Aware that something was wrong, Ed looked up. And once he saw who was standing there, his eyes quickly dropped to the ruined painting that his sword was still jammed through like a knife sticking out of a jar of peanut butter. Colors of shimmering gold and vivid lapis blue lay ruined in the dust, the image of a skyline and a church spire visible in the mess. And finally realizing exactly what he had done, and who it was standing before him, Ed had only two words left:

"Oh shit."

2.

Without speaking, the figure in the beige robe-who was definitely _not _the jewel thief-spun on his heel and walked away. This was unexpected. Ed sat stunned, open-mouthed, with bits of canvas crowding around him like evidence from a crime scene. He had expected some cursing, flailing arms, maybe even physical violence for what he had done. Not this...dismissal. Ed began clambering to his feet, pieces of wooden easel snapping in his wake.

"Oi, Chiaro!"

Ed sprinted after the retreating figure of the painter. "Oi, Chiaro-wait up!" His pursuit of the jewelry thief was completely forgotten. Ed was vaguely aware that a small crowd had started to gather around the remnants of the ruined painting, their hushed exclamations and shaking heads making it seem more like a dead body than a broken canvas. Chiaro kept walking. Ed finally caught up with him at the tent's entrance.

"Raining destruction down wherever you go, Edward. Some things never change."

"Um, I'm sorry 'bout that," said Ed, glancing back at the small cluster of people. "I don't suppose, ah, there is a chance that wasn't, um, yours-"

"-You disappoint me for even considering that a possibility, Edward."

A sheepish smile crossed Ed's face. "Well, I was never really good at identifying that kind of stuff-"

"-Stuff?" There was the sharp cock of an eyebrow. "_Stuff_? What-you mean _art_?"

_Tread lightly, _thought Ed. Chiaro was obviously very pissed. His rigid frame practically pulsed with anger. And Ed had no clue of what he could say or do to adequately apologize for what he had done. "Listen, Chiaro, if there's anything I can do to make up for that painting-"

"That painting was my entry in this year's arts festival," Chiaro stated flatly. "First place wins 10,000 cenz. Do you have 10,000 cenz, Edward?" Chiaro whirled around and pointedly looked Ed up and down, taking in his scuffed boots, worn leathers, and beat up motorcycle jacket. "No, I thought not," he answered himself dryly.

"But...but...there's no way to know if you would have actually won!"

Chiaro rolled his eyes in disgust, gave an exasperated sigh, spun on his heel, and walked away again. Ed started sputtering, his heavy harnessed boots slapping loudly on the courtyard bricks as he danced along behind the painter like a guilty and thoroughly chastised child. "Listen, Chiaro...I didn't mean for this to happen...and I...I know how you feel about your paintings...and I really am sorry...and I'm...and I'm..."

Chiaro swung around again, a scowl sliding over his face. "And what, Edward? What?"

Ed froze and visibly swallowed. His eyes fell on the tips of his boots. He thought about what this man had once done for him, of the sacrifices he had made so that Edward could escape the country of Xing. _ So he could return home again._ There was so much he could say, so much he _should_ say, and yet the only words that came out his mouth were: "And I'm...really happy to see you again."

Silence. For once, it seemed, the churlish artist had been rendered speechless. Now it was Chiaro's turn to stare down at his own sandaled feet. The canvas door of the exhibit tent flapped lazily in the breeze behind them. Moments passed and Chiaro finally spoke, his words barely more than a whisper. "Edward, you know I'm equally happy to-"

"-Hey Ed, look! I caught him!" A beaming Alphonse appeared in the church courtyard, dragging the beige-robbed thief by his arm. The younger Elric looked unusually pleased with himself. Roy trailed along behind him, his meandering gait and unaffected air as easy and unhurried as the autumn breeze that wound through the branches of the overhanging trees. "Good work, Al," said Ed, relieved that he was able to turn his attention to his younger brother and therefore avoid what was surely about to become an awkward emotional scene (and Ed avoided those kinds of scenes at all costs). Ed noticed that the thief's robes were now covered with rainbow-colored flowers. "Hey, what happened here?" he asked, reaching out and plucking a vivid purple morning glory from the man's sleeve. "Oh, that," said Al. "Yey, I kind of used some alchemy on some vines at a flower seller's stall to catch him." There was the sudden sound of a raised voice screeching in one of the Southern tongues coming from across the courtyard. "Um yey, I don't think she's too happy with what I did to her display," said Al. "I better go back and fix it!" With that, the younger alchemist turned on his heel, his head ducked down sheepishly as he pulled the cursing, flower-covered thief along with him.

Roy stepped forward and bowed slightly in greeting, "Master Chiaro. What a surprise to see you here."

Chiaro beamed the wide smile that would have greeted Ed had the alchemist not made the mistake of destroying the painter's (allegedly) prize-winning entry. "Ah, Mr. Mustang! How good it is to see you again! I'm so pleased to see that you are doing so well!" Chiaro reached out to shake Roy's hand in the Amestrian custom, his left arm with the missing hand held close to his side in a voluminous yet empty sleeve. The gesture made Ed wince. Neither Chiaro nor Roy seemed to notice. "I must say, it was a very happy day for me when I received that crate of Amestrian whiskey by anonymous post. It pleased me that you remembered our little wager and decided to honor it."

"I'm a man who stands by his word," replied Roy with a mischievous grin. Ed caught the look and asked suspiciously, "What are you two talking about?"

"Oh, nothing. Just the olden days of Xing," answered Chiaro dryly. The three of them began to drift back through the market together, strolling along in companionable chatter. Chiaro inquired about Alphonse, his health, and their recent travels, questions which Roy readily answered as Ed stewed beside them in sulky silence. Finally, Roy asked, "And what brings you here to the city of Liore, Master Chiaro? You are very far away from your home."

Ed could have kicked him for asking that. _Damn painting. _Chiaro cut Edward a scathing glance before he replied. "Why, the International Arts Festival, sir! There is a very large sum to be awarded to the winning entry, in case you haven't heard. And I am-well, I _was-_competing."

"Was?"

"Alas, a terrible catastrophe has befallen my entry!" Chiaro sighed dramatically. Ed rolled his eyes in response, his arms gesticulating wildly. "Oh, for Gate's sake! I ruined it! I totally fucking demolished it when I was chasing that guy! It was me, okay? I did it, so stop rubbing it in; I feel like shit enough already!" Both Chiaro and Roy just stopped and stared at Ed's sudden, flailing confession like he was a man who had developed an unexpectedly violent case of Tourette's. People on the path began giving them a wide berth. A woman in silk pleated skirts of Cretian design stared at them disapprovingly as she went by, shaking her scarf-covered head in disgust. Ed's shoulders sagged in defeat.

"I'm sorry," he muttered finally.

Roy raised an eyebrow. "Destroyed a painting, did you? Well, we must think of some way to make amends for that. So, to start-Master Chiaro, would you care to join us for lunch at the Inn of the Golden Chimera today?"

"That sounds wonderful, Mr. Mustang. Throw in some free drinks as well and I'm all yours..."

3.

Their small party split apart at the church's entry gate-a grand wrought iron affair that still had the gold insignia of the old sun god Leto raised high at its crest-with the promise to meet up at the inn in half an hour. Roy said he had some business to attend to at the local post office, and Alphonse elected to go with him, just in case there were any letters from Granny and Winry waiting for him there. That left Edward alone with Chiaro, a fact which he both welcomed and cursed. Ed still hadn't gotten over inadvertently ruining Chiaro's painting, even though Chiaro himself seemed perfectly at ease about the situation now. Chiaro grabbed Ed's arm with his remaining hand and guided him away. "Come, you must see the Cretian dancers that are in the town's square. They are a gorgeous sight to behold."

"Dancers? Why would I wanna look at some dancers?"

"Humor me. I was thinking they would make an excellent subject for a replacement painting for the exhibit." That last statement was enough to make Ed shut up.

The two of them strolled back through the market together, passing by an Aerugoan drum circle which had taken over the stone fountain near the town's center. A line of people dashed by wearing a colorful assortment of feathery cat's eye masks, apparently mistaking the arts festival for Aquoraya's carnivale. The percussive sound of drums and jingly tambourines filled the square with musical chaos. The scent of freshly baked bread from a nearby bakery wafted through the streets, enveloping everyone in its mouth-watering scent and reminding all who passed by how close it was to lunchtime. Ed's stomach started to growl insistently. But Chiaro seemed only interested in the dancers, to whom he pointed with enthusiasm. "See? Look how their pleated skirts float on the air as they turn. They are like flowers opening to the sun. I am very interested in doing portraits with lots of movement in them these days. Capturing movement, or rather a specific moment, is a challenge-you should have seen how my portrait of Vida turned out."

"Vida?" The name caught Ed's attention. "You mean my old sparring partner from the palace in Xing? I thought she hated you and refused to be one of your subjects."

"That has all changed," Chiaro stated flatly. "In fact, she is here in the city with me now; I thought we might fetch her before we gathered for lunch."

"Oh, _really_?" said Ed with a cocked eyebrow and burgeoning grin. "She's here with _you_? Even after throwing that bottle at your head?"

"Tch. It all evens out. Apparently I threw a paintbrush at her once. Although I admit I do not remember it."

"How can you not remember throwing a paintbrush at a palace guard?"

"Really, Edward. I've thrown quite a few paint brushes at people over the years. How can I possibly be expected to remember them all?"

"Oh. I see."

"Anyway, nevermind all that." Chiaro waved the topic away and began moving away from the swirling pleats and floating scarves of the Cretian dancers. Ed followed along by his side. "Just yesterday in the market I heard a story from an old man about the time twelve years ago when the Fullmetal Alchemist brought a statue to life in front of the old church, a statue that was as big and as tall as the church spire itself. Now_ that_ was an intriguing story. How about you tell me your version of it?" They turned down a narrow cobbled lane leading away from the square, heading in the general direction of the Inn of the Golden Chimera at a leisurely pace.

"Well, that was kind of a funny story," said Ed. "It all started with this priest named Cornello..." Ed stopped speaking. In fact, he stopped moving altogether. Chiaro turned around to face him, his brow furrowed, alerted to the fact that something was amiss. Ed squinted, searching desperately for a flash of silver near the rooftops. "Edward, what is wr-" Chiaro began, but never got to finish. Suddenly Ed was pushing the painter to ground, blocking him with his own body. There was the distinctive _ping!_ of metal on metal as an arrow ricocheted off Ed's automail arm. The scene turned chaotic as Ed yanked Chiaro off to the side, grabbing a wooden picnic table that was set against a stone cottage and propping it on its side. Ed pushed the painter down behind the makeshift shield. "Stay down," he ordered as more arrows flew and stuck into the wood. There was a clap and a flash and suddenly the table stretched twelve feet in height. "Don't move," said Ed and suddenly he was off and running right into the line of fire. Chiaro sat dazed behind his makeshift fortifications, too scared to move.

"Hey asshole! Come down from there or I'm coming up after you!" Another arrow _hissed!_ through the air. Ed angrily batted it aside with his automail. His gold eyes were narrowed into dangerous slits, his gait feral. Marching forward, he reached down to pick up a wooden pail with a piece of rope attached to it that had been abandoned in the lane. Twirling it around by the rope, he let it fly off toward the rooftop, aiming for that flash of silver. There was a _bang! _and a screech and Ed grinned evilly to himself. He ran to the wall, clapped and pressed his hand to the smooth bricks. Out popped a set of stairs. In moments he was sprinting up to the rooftop in search of his attacker.

There was another flash of silver and a distinct _whooshing! _sound as Ed crested the rooftop. He ducked and rolled beneath the katana that was swung at him, coming to rest on his knees. The blade came down again, and this time it was blocked with his automail arm. Bouncing to his feet, Ed whirled to confront his attacker. There was a moment of surprise and horror when he saw the black robes and ominous red and white mask that covered the man's face. _Oh shit, he's from Xing! _thought Ed, momentarily thrown off his game. He backed up clumsily as the masked assailant swung his sword at him again. A second shadow fell by Ed's feet. His eyes grew wide and Ed threw himself to the right as a second attacker swung at him from behind. Ed rolled and came up beside the crossbow that was initially used against him. He clapped and grabbed the bow, watching as it elongated into a sharp, silver-tipped staff. Metal clacked on wood as both ninjas came at him, one bearing a katana, the other an elegantly curved scimitar. Ed began backing up, aware that he was being forced to the roof's edge. His mind scrambled for an offensive as he guarded against both swords, blows raining down on him from two different sides.

He glanced down and saw the well bucket that he had thrown earlier. Grinning, he ducked down and grabbed the rope, lobbing the bucket at the ninja with the katana. The bucket wrapped itself around the man's arm, and Ed yanked him forward with the rope, aiming for his face with a roundhouse kick. The ninja shrieked in agony as the blow connected, and he staggered back to the roof's edge, tumbling over the side with an inhuman wail. Ed shrugged and turned to the other ninja with the scimitar. "Alone at last," said Ed with a wicked grin. Within seconds he was on the masked attacker, staff whirling and feet flying.

Ed forced the second ninja to the roof's edge. Pointing the staff at the man's chest, Ed said, "Who are you? Did Emperor Xiao Lee send you? Why are you here?" The attacker dropped his sword and slowly raised his arms in defeat. Ed prodded him with the tip of his staff. "Tell me!" he demanded. The ninja slowly shook his head, and without warning, he simply leaned back into the wind, letting gravity take him. There was a terrible _thud!_ as the body hit the cobbled bricks below. Ed closed his eyes, his jaw clenched in anger. "Goddam it!" he yelled, snapping the staff over his metal knee. He flung the pieces into the air in frustration.

"Edward?" Ed leaned over the rooftop. Chiaro was looking up at the roof, standing uncertainly between the two dead bodies. "Are you alright?" His voice shook with the question.

"I'm cool." Ed bounded down the alchemized staircase, springing to the ground with animal grace. Fighting always made him feel energized. Glancing down at the masked men, he said, "They're obviously from Xing. I can't believe it. I thought that was all over, and I wouldn't have to worry about the emperor coming after me anymore. Guess I was wrong-"

"-You're not wrong, Ed," said Chiaro solemnly.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

The painter cast his eyes to the ground. Then he said, softly, "Those men weren't here for you-"

"-No? Then who-"

"-They were here for _me_."

4.

Chiaro grabbed Ed by the arm. "Come, we should not linger here. We need to go to Vida now. In case something bad has happened." Chiaro tugged, but Ed didn't budge. Confusion marked the alchemist's face.

"No. I'm not moving until you tell me what is really going on here."

"You're right. I should have told you about this straight away-about the real reason the two of us left Xing-but there was just so much happening." Chiaro started backing down the lane, a growing fear overtaking his features. "Please, Edward. I am worried about Vida. We need to go _now_. I will talk on the way." Chiaro whirled around and took off across the bricks in a sprint. Ed merely stood there shaking his head. After a few moments he bolted after him.

"Oi, Chiaro! Wait up!"

"I'm not waiting Ed! What if the assassins have gotten to Vida too?"

"And what if they have? What do you think _you_ are going to do about it?" Then in a softer tone: "You should really let me take the lead. It would be the smart thing to do."

This bit of logic seemed to get the painter's attention. His gait slowed to a brisk walk. Ed caught up with him, falling in step beside him. "You really shouldn't worry, Chi. I remember Vida well. She was a tough fighter. A _really _tough fighter. I'm sure she can handle whatever's thrown at her."

"I know, Edward. I do. But still...if the situation were reversed and we were instead running to Mr. Mustang's aid, would knowledge of his innate skill calm your mind even the tiniest bit?" Ed turned his head, studying the fearful expression on Chiaro's face. "No, I suppose not," Ed answered at last. The two of them emerged from the small alleyway, veering onto a busy street that was lined with shop fronts. They darted in between a man rolling a wheelbarrow and a woman with three noisy children in tow, allowing themselves to be swept up in the current of pedestrian traffic. Finally Ed asked, "Where are we going?"

"To an estate on the edge of town. It belongs to my current patroness, Ms. Fiona Alderbach. She has been kind enough to let us stay in her carriage house while we're in town."

"Ooh, a patroness-that sounds fancy!" said Ed, dodging around a sausage cart that was taking up half the street. "How did you get so lucky?"

"It wasn't luck, Edward," Chiaro answered with a scowl. "It is because she is a great admirer and collector of Xingian art. And, as you know, I am the most famous artist in Xing."

"I see your sense of modesty hasn't changed at all."

"No. Not in the least." They split apart to allow an old woman with a mule to trudge past. The smell from the sausage cart was making Ed's stomach growl loudly. "I'm afraid your lunch will have to wait," Chiaro said dryly. They were about to cross an intersection when they were brought to a halt by a female voice calling from the opposite side of the street:

"Chiaro!"

"Vida?!"

Vida, dressed in long indigo robes of Xingian design, came running towards them from across the street. Her hair, which had been cut into a strict bob the last time Ed had seen her, had grown out and was now twisted into a bun high on her head. Her relief on seeing Chiaro was obvious. "Oh, thank the gods! You're alright! After what had just happened, I was afraid-I was coming to the exhibit tent straight away to find you-" She stopped momentarily to acknowledge Edward's presence. "Ah, Mr. Elric, how very nice to see you again."

"I take it you've had some visitors as well?" said Ed with a raised eyebrow.

Vida's expression turned stony. "Bastards! Attacked by my own countrymen! Well, they shall never set eyes on Xing again; I've made sure of that!" She stopped to momentarily compose herself. "You're alright then, Chi?" Her eyes softened in a way that Ed would not have thought possible.

"Oh, yes. But only because of Edward." Then he added dryly, "As you know, I am ill equipped for dealing with ninja assassins. Flinging paint brushes at them seems to have little effect."

"You should not jest so."

"Why are assassins after you anyway?" Edward interjected.

Vida looked taken aback. "Chiaro has not told you anything?"

"Not yet."

Those soft eyes turned accusing. "Tch. Chiaro always forgets the most important things. But I suppose he has found time to go on and on about the artistic beauty of the Cretian dancers in the square, no?"

"Oh, at great length."

'Now, wait a minute! I would have gotten around to all the other stuff eventually!"

The trio noticed that they were blocking the flow of traffic, and they began moving back down the street together in the direction of the sausage cart. Ed glanced at it longingly as they walked past. Vida started speaking again. "Mr. Elric, Chiaro and I have become immersed in some rather unfortunate circumstances back in Xing. We have had to abandon our home land or...face certain consequences." Chiaro huffed at this remark. Vida continued, her expression turning guilty as she spoke. "It is not Chiaro's doing at all. In fact, his only crime is that he is associated with me. The blame is entirely mine."

"Yours? What did you do?"

Vida looked at Ed, her expression turning flinty again. "It is not what I _did_, Mr. Elric," said Vida in a low voice. "It is what I _didn't_ do. As you know, I was one of the esteemed members of Emperor Lee's personal guard. Well, the day came when the house of Yao finally decided to make its move against him; I saw what was about to happen and I-"

"-She just stood aside and let it happen," Chiaro interjected. "And good riddance, too, I say! A fouler man has never walked the earth, as I'm sure you can agree, Edward-"

"-Chiaro!"

"-_What_? I'm only saying what everyone is thinking," insisted the painter. "Xing is better off without him, despite the fact that the whole country has now fallen into a civil war, what with the Lee clan and Yao clan battling over the throne. Who knows how it will all turn out? In any case, the Lee clan is somewhat understandably furious over the whole incident, and they have vowed to hunt Vida down for the part they think she played in the assassination."

"_Think_ she played?"

"Oh yes," said Chiaro. "They think she was paid off by the Yao clan, of course. A not uncommon occurrence in Xing politics, you understand. Standard operating procedure. Anyway, after the fallout, Vida decided to leave for Amestris and I elected to go with her. End of story." The three of them rounded a curved sidewalk. A few shops down was a large three story structure with prominent gables and dark half timbering. A wooden sign with a picture of a half-ram, half-bird creature painted on it in gold leaf hung from its doorway. The words _Inn of the Golden Chimera _were written below it in a graceful medieval script. The three of them were apparently early, because Roy and Alphonse were nowhere in sight.

"I'm sorry you're being hunted by your own countrymen," Ed offered.

"Do not be sorry, Mr. Elric," said Vida. "As I said, the fault is entirely mine. I made a decision that day and now I have to live with it, but-"

"-But there is happy news, too," said Chiaro, clutching Ed's arm.

"And that is?"

"Why, you don't have to worry about the emperor pursuing you anymore! Don't you see what this means? You can be free, Edward! Free!" Chiaro pulled on his arm for emphasis. "At long last! You can stop hiding!"

A bell tinkled over the doorway behind them. Ed turned. Roy was standing under the awning. His face was the very picture of surprise. An awkward moment passed and he said to Chiaro:

"_What did you just say_?"

5.

Everyone stood awkwardly beneath the gabled entrance to the inn. The door clanged open, and a family speaking with a Drachman accent poured out, squeezing past them and making their way up the street. Finally Vida said, "Perhaps we should continue this conversation inside?" Roy just stood there blinking. "Emperor Lee is dead?" he asked quietly. Ed merely nodded. Chiaro walked past the two of them, prying open the door and setting the bells to jingling again. He called over his shoulder, "Come, let us drink! To our dear departed emperor! It's a fine reason to celebrate, no?" Vida gave him a chastising look, but followed him inside. Roy and Ed continued to stand beneath the awning, staring at each other. Ed could see a myriad of possibilities flitting across Roy's usually calm, inscrutable face. Ed allowed himself a small smile before saying, "Come on, let's go in-I'm starving." Roy nodded briefly and held open the door, his eyes never once leaving Ed's face. Ed could still feel those dark blue irises burning through his back as he walked inside to the bar.

"Guys! Over here! I saved us a place!" Alphonse waved at them from a large round table in the corner. The ceramic cat from the marketplace sat perched in the middle like a centerpiece. Seeing it there made Ed smile even more. "So that ugly cat survived the chase?" Ed said with a smirk.

"I told you they were good luck!" said Alphonse, clutching the ceramic animal protectively. "And it's NOT ugly," he added. He looked at Vida and Chiaro questioningly.

Roy stepped in, demonstrating the good manners that Ed never seemed to remember or bother with. "Alphonse, this is Chiaro and Vida-they both spent some time with your brother back in Xing."

Alphonse's round eyes lit up. "Oh, hello!" He shook each of their hands in turn. "I'm afraid I don't remember very much of Xing. I was very sick when I was there," he said regrettably. His eyes settled on Chiaro. "But my brother has mentioned you quite a few times, Mr. Scuro."

"Of course he has," smiled Chiaro as he took his seat. "Your brother here also happens to owe me for a painting of mine that he destroyed earlier today. Including this meal, for starts."

Ed's head snapped up. "Hey, wait a minute! I just saved your ass from a pair of killer ninjas! Shouldn't that clear my debt over the painting?"

"A lot of lapis went into that skyline you destroyed. Almost every bit I had. A fact which would not have mattered had I won the 10,000 cenz." Chiaro made a sulky face, but Ed could see the calculating glint in his eyes. "Now I need to paint a replacement, and as you know, lapis does not come cheap."

"Oh, for Gate's sake!" cried Ed.

"There will be no replacement," Vida cut in. "We cannot possibly stay in Liore. Not now that the Lee clan has found us."

This time Chiaro's head snapped up. "What? No! I have four days; I'm going to paint a new painting and win that money! Nothing is stopping me."

"Chiaro!" Vida glared. The painter glared back in turn. Roy smirked in silence. Ed rolled his eyes. Alphonse looked lost.

"_Chiarooooo_..."

"_Vidaaaaaa_..."

Both parties continued to glare. The silent standoff continued for almost a minute before Ed finally broke in:

"Fine-if Chiaro wants to stay until the end of the festival, then I will act as his bodyguard."

The whole table turned to look at Ed. Roy and Alphonse with surprise, Vida with a stony glare. Only Chiaro looked pleased. A server from the bar came by with a basket of bread, and Chiaro grabbed half a baguette out of it, tearing into it with gusto and saying amiably, "Lovely. Then everything is settled."

"No. Everything is NOT settled," said Vida through gritted teeth. Chiaro continued to munch happily on his bread, his eyebrow arched in a way that said, _"Oh really?" _Finally Roy offered, "No...it's not a bad idea. It will probably take some time for word to get back to Xing, not to mention time for them to send in some new recruits. By then, Chiaro will have won the contest and the two of you can be on your way." Vida looked at him with surprise.

"Mr. Mustang-as always, you are the voice of reason," said Chiaro in a syrupy voice. "I tell you what, when I win, I will give you ten percent of my profits."

"Huh?" said Ed with a look of disbelief. "Why does_ he _get ten percent? I'm going to be the one guarding your sorry ass."

"Because I'm the better negotiator," said Roy. "Remember what I said about verbal skills earlier?" The Mustang smirk was out in full force.

"And he said I would win-not _if_," added Chiaro. "Unlike you, you doubter." Ed muttered something unseemly under his breath. Chiaro ignored it and went on happily. "Wonderful. Then you will accompany me to the apothecary tomorrow to buy new materials." More swear words were said under Ed's breath. Roy smirked in amusement at the situation. Then he turned to the painter, addressing him directly:

"I've seen your work, Master Chiaro. I have no doubt you will take first prize."

"Ah, I like the way you think, Mr. Mustang. You're obviously a man of sound logic."

"Please-call me Roy."

"Very well, Roy." Ed huffed in disgust. Chiaro turned to him. "What's the matter Ed?" Are you not looking forward to spending time with me? It was you, after all, who offered to be my bodyguard." Ed's shoulders slumped in defeat. "I know, I know," said Ed. He reached into the basket and took a baguette, biting into it with a frown, talking through his food.

"I just have a sneaky feeling I'm gonna regret this."

6.

Two days passed in a whirl of anxiety and anticipation. True to his word, Ed followed Chiaro around: from the carriage house, to the apothecary (where Chiaro charged a pirate's treasure worth of colors on credit), to the market, to the art festival tents, to anywhere Chiaro cared to go. Ed tried to get Chiaro to abandon his living arrangements at Ms. Alderbach's carriage house as a matter of safety, but Chiaro refused to budge, saying its broad picture windows and fleur-de-lis wallpaper inspired his artistic nature. Ed just rolled his eyes and sighed at his answer. During all of this, Vida would hover nearby, picking up pots of paint, brushes, cups, anything at hand, watching Chiaro with an eagle's eye, fretting over him like a mother hen. One day, after several hours had passed of her pointless fussing, Chiaro finally dropped his charcoal onto his drawing pad in a huff and rasped, "For God's sake woman! You're being as fastidious as a nun with a ruler! Can you go find something else to do so I can create in peace!" Rapid phrases in Xingese were hurled back and forth between them, an exchange which culminated in Vida stomping out of the carriage house, slamming the heavy wooden front door with a shelf-shaking _bang!_ Chiaro sighed and rubbed at his eyes with his one good hand, muttering to himself under his breath. Ed, sitting quietly at a nearby table with an alchemy book, turned and said,

"You know, I think you're being too hard on her. She's just trying to protect you is all."

"I know, Edward. But I can't think-or create-with her always hovering over me like that." Chiaro jabbed at his drawing pad for emphasis. The arm with the half-empty sleeve was propped on the drawing table. Ed found himself staring at it. He swallowed and said hesitantly, "You know, Chiaro-"

"-No, Edward."

"Huh? What?"

"I know what you're going to say, and the answer is no. I don't want automail."

Ed just blinked. His guilty face betrayed a range of emotions. "But Chiaro, you would have a much better time grinding those colors of yours if you had two hands. I mean, I've seen you struggling with it. And I know some great automail mechanics, the best in Amestris-"

"I said no, Edward," Chiaro repeated flatly. "I remember you telling me in great detail about your automail surgery. You said, and I quote: 'It is the most painful thing I have ever endured.' And then you said it took months of rehabilitation afterwards. And to that, I say, no thank you. I'd rather avoid pain. And I'd rather not be out of commission for a year. There is too much beauty in the world to be rendered; I can't waste the time." Ed fell silent. Chiaro went back to scratching at his drawing pad. After a couple of more moments had passed, Ed ventured another inquiring glance in Chiaro's direction. He closed the blue-covered alchemy book he was reading with an audible _thwack! _and laid it on the table. Then he said:

"Uh, Chiaro?"

"Yes, Edward?" The painter didn't look up.

"Is it me or...have you not actually started to paint anything?"

"Thank you for pointing that out, Edward."

"But you only have two days left before the contest closes."

Ed easily dodged the piece of charcoal that was hurled in his direction. "For God's sake, Edward! You don't think I know the hour is waning? Say one more word about it, and I swear I will drive you out of here too!"

"Uh, sorry." Ed picked up his alchemy book, ducking his head sheepishly behind the pages. "It's my fault anyway," the book muttered softly. "If I hadn't destroyed your first painting, you wouldn't be in this predicament."

"That other painting was a piece of shit," Chiaro stated flatly.

Ed's eyes peered over the top of the book with a look of surprise. "Huh? What? You mean you didn't actually like it?"

There was an evil smirk on the painter's face. "No-I hated it. I only painted the thing because I thought the Liore judges would be partial to a landscape featuring their beloved cathedral. As a winning entry, it would have done the job admirably. But personally...it was, I repeat, a piece of shit. I'm kinda glad you stuck your sword through it." Silence filled the room. Then both men burst out laughing. The laughter only ended when the front door swung open.

Roy stood in the entryway with his arms clasped behind his back, regarding them both with a raised eyebrow. "Sounds like a party in here."

"A party of fools," concluded Chiaro. "Come, why don't you join us?"

"Of course, I would love to," answered Roy. He hesitated a moment before saying, "Chiaro...do you mind if I talk to Edward alone for a minute?"

The painter's eyes flitted from Roy's face to Ed's questioningly. Then he shrugged and stood up with his drawing pad. "Of course not, I will wait out in the garden."

"Hey-should he go out there alone?" Ed interjected. He obviously took his job as Chiaro's self-appointed bodyguard seriously.

"Really Edward," sighed Chiaro. "The roses won't sprout ninjas in the few moments I am alone. I'll be perfectly fine." He walked by Roy with his eyebrow raised, exiting the room in a swirl of colorless robes. The front door clicked shut behind him.

Roy crossed the room and took the seat across from Ed at the table. He nodded at the bookshelf on the wall. "Passing your time by reading?"

"Yey, there are a couple of half-decent alchemy books in the mix." He held up the book he had been reading for emphasis. He waited for Roy to speak, but the older man just sat there with his hands curled into fists on top of the table, the bright sunlight from the large picture window dusting his dark hair with a halo of shimmering gold. Finally Ed prompted, "So what did you want to speak with me about?"

A half smile appeared on Roy's face. "Chiaro is right. Now that the emperor is dead there is no reason for us to run anymore-"

"-But-"

"-But nothing. I've been thinking, Ed. About our future. Actually, I've been thinking about it all along." Roy reached out and covered Ed's flesh hand with his own. "I've been in contact with Elysia, sending her anonymous telegrams through Havoc's general store. That's why I've been going back and forth from the post office so much. She's been a lot of help, as the inheritor of my estate. Anyway, I've been making preparations for us, and I think it's time we take advantage of them." Roy paused, looking at Ed meaningfully. "Ed, it's time for us to go home," he whispered finally.

Ed squirmed in his seat. "But I...I can't just leave Chiaro. I made a promise." Guilt laced the younger alchemist's voice.

"And I want you to keep that promise. But it's only for two more days. And after that, it's just us." Roy turned Ed's hand over in his own, holding it palm up. He then stretched the hand he had balled up into a fist over it. "This, Ed. This is what I want to give you. Give to _us_." He dropped into Ed's upturned palm a small silver key. It winked temptingly in the sunlight. Ed just stared at it, his face a swirling kaleidoscope of conflicting emotions. Then Ed said:

"What_ is _it?"

"It's our future, Ed." A pause. "That is, if you still want it to be."

Ed's head snapped up. "Of course I still want it! I'll always want you!" Ed lunged across the table, catching Roy up in a rib-breaking embrace.

"Hey, careful! A fellow wants to keep his bones intact!" Roy said laughingly into Ed's hair.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I forget how delicate you are, _old man_."

"Hey, watch it!"

Ed loosened his grip. "So...what exactly does my key go to?"

A smirk slid onto Roy's face. "That's a surprise. You'll see, after the contest. After we leave Liore."

Ed's eyes softened to an amber gold. "I love you, Roy...'

"And I love you, Ed..."

Outside the carriage house, Chiaro sat on the grass in front of the wide picture window, scribbling furiously on his drawing pad. There was an intense look of concentration on his face, a look that kept alternating with a rapturous smile. His hand flew across the page as if it had a mind of its own. Heavy black lines began to fill the blank space. His eyes remained glued to the scene in the window. Then he said to himself:

"Finally, a moment of true artistic inspiration..."

7.

"No, you take that corner!"

"Watch it! This ramp is unsteady!"

"It's going to tilt! I told you to grab that corner!"

"I told you this ramp was wobbly, brother. Stop rushing me!"

"Alphonse, it's going to fall!"

"For god's sake! Don't drop it-the paint is still wet!"

"Chiaro, if you had let me use my alchemy on it, that wouldn't be a problem."

"You're not coming anywhere near my painting with your alchemy, Edward. I've already told you."

"What the hell kind of frame is this thing wrapped in anyway?"

"Bamboo. Vida made it."

"Don't worry, it won't break."

"Almost there, Alphonse. Just one more push and-go!"

The large covered canvas slid awkwardly onto the back of the wagon. Ed was pushing upward from a ramp leading to the ground, while Al pulled at it from inside the bed. Chiaro and Vida both sat on the front seat, Chiaro craning around and eyeing the scene with a look of extreme anxiety on his face. His relief on seeing the painting safely loaded onto the back of the wagon without incident was obvious. Ed pulled the ramp inside, hopped into the bed and clacked the back flap shut. Finally he said, "Where's Roy? I thought he was going to come and help us with this?"

"He said he had to go back to the post office. He's going to meet us at the festival tents later," said Al.

"Sounds like a good excuse to duck out on some work to me," grumbled Ed. "I don't understand why we couldn't just rent a car."

Al shook his head. "Because this thing's too big to fit in a car."

"A little bit of alchemy would have fixed that."

Chiaro narrowed his eyes. "I told you Edward, no alchemy on my paintings. There is no way you'd be able to put it back exactly the way it was. It would corrupt the picture."

"I could have corrupted the car instead! A convertible sounds really good right now."

"Nevermind, let's just get to the tents. It's almost time for the final judging." Vida pulled on the reins, and a pair of sullen-looking mules clopped forward, pulling the wagon along at a meandering pace. Their hooves echoed on the cobblestones as they slowly made their way up Ms. Alderbach's lengthy circular drive. They passed by the front of her house, a grand, many-storied affair with several pretty gables and numerous stripes of half-timbering. Rows upon rows of long narrow windows with diamond shaped panes covered the front. It was easily one of the biggest houses in Liore.

"Look at that place," said Ed with a low whistle. "Liore has really come into its own over the past decade. And to think, when Al and I first came here it was a shithole of a desert town."

"Aw, it wasn't that bad, brother," said Al. "There were some charming aspects to it."

Ed looked at Al incredulously. "Are we remembering the same town? Do you remember Cornello and his little cult of followers? Man, what a c-"

"-Brother!"

The wagon rolled on listlessly, the wheels squeaking with each labored turn. The sun beat down unforgivingly. Ed leaned over the front of the wagon bed, thoughtlessly leaving Al with the burden of keeping the painting upright. "So Chiaro-what's the big secret you're hiding under there?" Ed nodded toward the covered canvas. "You haven't actually let anyone see the painting yet, including Vida here. So what's the big surprise?"

Chiaro smiled conspiratorially. "You'll see. Once we get to the exhibition tents."

Ed lifted an eyebrow. "Is it something that's gonna make me wanna punch you?"

Chiaro shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. All will be revealed in good time." The secretive smile was still glued to his face.

The wagon rolled on, traversing the town proper. Curving rows of shop fronts squeaked past: a tailor's, a pub, an automail shop, an apothecary, a book store. Soon, the cathedral spire came into view, along with the snowy tops of the surrounding festival tents. The sound of competing strains of music drifted through the air, filling the space with a merry, tinkling clamor. A lone singer crooned out a ballad about the sorrows of the Ishbalan War. The street vendors were noisier than ever, hawking their wares loudly to passersby from their stalls, determined to get rid of that last little bit of remaining merchandise. Things were reaching a fever pitch. It was the final day of the International Arts Festival.

The wagon was brought to a halt in the cathedral courtyard. Al dropped the flap and jumped to the ground, pulling the ramp out of the back. "C'mon brother, let's get going." Ed looked annoyed. "Do you seriously want to carry that all the way to the exhibit tent? Screw that. Check this out." Ed clapped and touched his hands to the ramp, turning it into a wheeled dolly with a pull lever. The corners were decorated with gruesome-looking skulls entwined with prickly thorns. Al stared at the corners. "Wow, brother, your sense of design is still-"

"-terrible," finished Chiaro. "Dreadful." He came up and slapped Ed on the back. "Good thing you're not an artist."

"What? My design is cool!" Ed looked around for confirmation, but there was only a sea of curled up noses. "Well, I think it's cool," he huffed under his breath.

Ed and Al loaded the painting onto the dolly and wheeled it to the exhibit tent. They were met at the entrance by a man with a gray handlebar mustache wearing a plaid waistcoat and black jacket. "Ah, Master Chiaro!" he boomed. "I see you made it after all. I was starting to have doubts."

"Well, you shouldn't have," said Chiaro flatly as he shook the man's hand.

"And what painted wonder do you have for us today?" the unnamed gentleman asked.

"A prize winning portrait," said Chiaro without a trace of irony. He held up his hand and the dolly was wheeled to a stop. Chiaro turned and began to carefully peel away the cloth the painting was wrapped in. Both Vida and Ed craned around the large frame of the mustachioed man to get a good look. As the cloth was stripped away, bits of color and shape were revealed. Lots of glistening gold and a faint fleur-de-lis pattern. A broad picture window with a wild burst of sunlight emanating from its generous panes. A shelf loaded with books, the covers in a variety of jewel-toned colors, their spines etched with mystery. A plain rustic table polished to a high reflective shine. And at last, the two main subjects themselves: Roy in a plain white shirt on one side of the table, Ed in black on the other. The sunlight from the window on Ed's side washed over him like a gilded saint, haloing him in a band of shimmering gold, casting a heavenly light over his hair and eyes. The intense light reflected onto Roy, creating an unusually bright sheen over his hair and face. Roy's expression was rapt as he stared at Ed from across the table; Ed's own face was brooding and intense. It was a beautiful, intimate moment caught in time, a rendering of a conversation that would follow into eternity.

Ed's feelings at seeing the painting were twofold: irritation that Chiaro had dared to use a private moment as his subject, and awe at the simple, undeniable beauty of the recreated scene. Both feelings rendered him speechless.

"Brother, it's gorgeous!" exclaimed Al from behind him. Vida murmured in agreement. The mustachioed gentleman was nodding effusively. "Why Master Chiaro! You've outdone yourself! This is even better than the last one!" Chiaro just stood there, basking in what he no doubt considered to be his rightfully earned praise. Ed simply turned and walked away.

"Brother, where are you going?" Al turned and followed Ed to the front of the tent. "What's the matter? Are you mad at Mr. Scuro?" Ed stopped walking. He slowly turned to face his brother. A small smile drifted across his face. "I'm not mad, Al. Not really. Well, maybe a little bit. It was just such a...personal moment. It was weird seeing it like that."

Al smiled back in turn. "Mr. Scuro strikes me as someone who probably lacks a sense of boundaries."

Ed let out a sharp bark of laughter. "That's putting it lightly."

Vida appeared next to the brothers in a swirl of dark blue robes. "Mr. Elric, I hope you are not upset by Chiaro's picture." Her voice was filled with concern.

"I'm not Vida. I promise-"

A sudden scream ripped through the air. Ed, Al, and Vida all whirled at the sound. "Look out, he's got a knife!" someone screeched. A figure in a black hood was racing through the tent. A knife gleamed menacingly in his upturned hand. He was headed straight for Chiaro. Both Ed and Vida yelled: "CHIARO, LOOK OUT!"

The painter turned just as the knife came arcing down...

8.

"NINJA! CHIARO, LOOK OUT!"

But it was too late. The arm with the knife came slicing down, shredding the air. A terrible ripping noise was heard throughout the tent, as bystanders continued to wail. There was the loud _crack!_ of a whip, and the attacker was caught by the ankle and thrown to the ground by Vida. Ed ran and leapt on him at once, jumping onto his back and digging his automail knee into his spine, capturing each of the man's flailing arms and forcing them to the ground. Chiaro, meanwhile, stood there blinking and unharmed. His painting-the real victim-had been sliced in two and lay in tatters on the ground next to him.

"What. The. Hell." The painter stood there completely stunned and open-mouthed. He slowly knelt down by the remnants of his work, tentatively touching the broken canvas with a shaky hand. His expression switched from one of blank bewilderment to outright fury. He whirled on the man that Ed had trapped on the ground. Without ceremony, he grasped the figure's black hood and yanked it back. There was no ominous red and white mask beneath it. There was just a man, with light curly hair, a pale face and a sputtering mouth.

"Hey-I know you," said Chiaro with narrowed eyes. "You painted that dreadful entry depicting a fountain scene with some children playing by it."

"Go back to Xing where you belong, you filthy foreigner!" the captured man spat. "You don't deserve to win that ten thousand cenz! That money should go to an Amestrian artist! An Amestrian!"

The mustachioed man in the waistcoat, still cowering in fear from the initial shock of the attack, said in a shaky voice. "By Leto, he's one of the competing artists! Why, he must have gone completely mad! He-"

"-He has completely misunderstood the idea of an _International _Arts Festival," remarked Chiaro dryly.

Ed cast a forlorn look down at the ruined painting. "Chiaro, how can you be so calm about this?" he asked quietly. Vida and Alphonse came and crowded around Ed and the assailant, their faces a mirror of Ed's own doleful expression as they took in the broken canvas. Without warning, Chiaro walked over to Vida, grabbed one of the sai that she carried tucked in her boots, turned and stabbed the attacker straight through the hand. He screeched in agony. Then the painter simply turned his back and walked away.

"Guess he wasn't so calm after all," said a wide-eyed Ed as he struggled to hold onto the now-bleeding man. The mustachioed man scampered out of the tent, saying, "I'm getting the police constable! This is madness! Madness, I tell you!" He trotted off through the courtyard, talking and gesticulating wildly at all who passed. One of those people happened to be Roy, who was dressed in a white button down shirt and black top coat and carrying a large package under his arm.

Roy entered the tent, an eyebrow cocked as he surveyed the confusing scene in front of him. "Did I miss something exciting?" he asked blankly.

"You missed everything," said Ed with a grumpy look. "We thought we were being attacked by assassins from Xing again. Turns out it was just a half-assed artist with a grudge." Ed nodded at the man on the ground. Roy saw the ruined painting next to him and simply muttered, "Oh."

"Look, Mr. Scuro's back," said Al. Chiaro was stalking back through the courtyard towards them, the look of storm clouds on his face only slightly muted from before. "They better come get this guy soon before something else happens," muttered Ed. Al turned to him and said, "You can give him to me; I'll take him away to the constable. He's not a very big fellow anyway." Ed wrestled the attacker to his feet and handed him over to Al, who immediately started hustling him out of the tent and well out of Chiaro's line of sight.

"Chi, I'm so sorry," Vida said as she went to stand by the artist's side. Chiaro's eyes were downcast. "Two paintings in one week. I can't believe it." The painter shook his head in disbelief. "And to think, for that one, I worked my fingers to the bone, I haven't slept for two days, I-"

"-Master Chiaro, it seems you have once again lost your entry to the contest," said Roy.

"-Well, obviously-"

"-But I believe I told you four days ago that I would find a way to make up for the painting that Ed destroyed," Roy continued unabashed. "And I meant it. I'm very sorry you lost another valuable piece, but I do have good news: The same day that Ed ruined your first entry, I went down to the post office and sent a telegram to my goddaughter Elysia in Central. I had her send something down from my personal library. It only arrived this very morning." Roy took the large square package from beneath his arm and set it on the ground. He untied the string that bound the wrappings and pulled back the thick layers of packing paper and the shiny velvet cloth underneath. In the full light of day stood Chiaro's original portrait of Ed, in all its red, black, and gold glory, as bold and as brilliantly beautiful as the first day Ed set eyes on it. A stunned silence clouded the air, a reverential quiet that lasted for several seconds. Finally, Chiaro broke it by saying:

"Why, Mr. Mustang! You are a true miracle worker! I believe my ten thousand cenz has just been saved!"

9.

The air smelled sweet, much sweeter here than it had back on the train. There was the unmistakable scent of freshly fallen dew on the grass, earthy and green and lush. The little phaeton they were travelling in went little more than 60 km, just fast enough to set a light breeze dancing through Ed's hair. The blindfold he was wearing allowed him to see nothing. There was only sound and scent and touch; that was his whole world. He only knew he was in an old, outdated open-top car because he could feel the open breeze, the annoying bounce of the antiquated frame, the dithering pace, and the rumble of the protesting motor. He could hear Roy struggling with the stubborn clutch next to him. After several moments of silence had passed, punctuated only by the motor's low mechanized warble, Ed finally said:

"Are we nearly there yet?"

There was the protesting honk of an angry goose as Roy shifted the gear again. The car increased with infinitesimal speed. The air was turning from brisk to tentatively warm with the rising of the unseen sun. Ed could feel the change in heat on his skin, could feel the steady yet uneven vibrations of the car as it bounced along an unpaved road, jostling him from side to side. Every now and then, Roy would reach out and steady Ed's arm, a warning sign that he was listing too far off to the right. His touch was a comfort in the darkness.

"Almost there," said Roy. "I'm kind of sorry I spent my percentage of Chiaro's winnings on this heap. A lame mule could go faster."

Ed snickered. They had left Liore almost a week ago. By the time they had set off from their inn, all the vendors and tents and displays and exhibits in the square had been broken down and completely dispersed, gone as if they had never existed. The sight had made Ed feel strangely empty. Liore had gone back to looking like a blank canvas, now that the International Arts Festival was over.

Chiaro and Vida had both left right after the closing of the art contest. Once the mustachioed man in the waistcoat had announced the words, "And the winner this year is artist Chiaro Scuro, for his portrait of Edward Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist, Hero of the People!" the smirking painter had immediately scampered up to greedily collect his prize money. Ed had watched him exit the tent directly after snagging his winnings, trotting through the courtyard and hopping back onto his mule cart. The contest's climax was an obvious cue for him to go. Fighting his way through the crowd, Ed had made his way over to the cart to say good-bye. Their final parting-with Chiaro sitting high on the bench and Ed standing on the ground beside him-had stirred up an unusual well of emotions within him: happiness, regret, hope, sorrow. Even after all the unfortunate events-dark random twists of fate that had given the two of them, for good or ill, a strange set of shared circumstances-Ed had been left feeling unusually bereft. He had truly been sad to see the artist go.

_"Good-bye, Chiaro. I would say it has been fun, but..."_

_ The painter barked out a bitter laugh. "Hmm, my idea of fun does not include nearly being murdered by assassins and having two of my paintings ripped to shreds. No, it was hardly what I would call 'fun,' Edward." The artist paused, then added meaningfully, "But I was very glad to see you again."_

_ Ed smiled a wan smile. "I was glad to see you too, Chiaro." He swallowed and continued, looking down at his boots, "You know, I never really did thank you for Xing-"_

_ "-You don't have to, Edward," Chiaro interrupted him in a soft voice. "All debts between us are settled, I promise you." _

_ Ed's head snapped up. "So you don't regret anything?"_

_ Chiaro's eyes narrowed in a familiar way. "Regret is a wasteful emotion, I find. No, I regret nothing. Not even incurring the wrath of an emperor and fleeing my homeland. I may be hunted now, but I tell you this: I have never before felt so free." The artist then smiled a smile that rivaled the brightness of the sun._

_ Ed was surprised by his answer. "And what about you, Edward?" the painter continued. "Do you regret anything?" Chiaro glanced over at Roy, who was deep in conversation with Vida and Alphonse. "Are you happy?" His eyes pierced Ed with a searching look._

_ The smile that bloomed on Ed's face eclipsed Chiaro's own. "Never happier. As you rightfully said, 'I may be hunted now, but I have never before felt so free'."_

_ "Ah, but you are no longer being hunted, are you? You are truly free, Edward. Free to go home and settle down and be happy."_

_ "I don't have a real home to go to, Chiaro."_

_ "Oh, but I think you have," said Chiaro with a mischievous smile._

_ Ed arched an eyebrow. "Oh, and how so?"_

_ "Let's just say a little Amestrian bird told me. You'll see." Chiaro pulled on the cart's reins, and the mule clomped listlessly forward a few paces. Vida came by and swung gracefully into place by Chiaro on the bench. "Goodbye, Edward," Chiaro called over his shoulder. "It's been a real adventure." The mule dragged forward._

"_But Chiaro, where will you go?"_

"_Oh, who knows? Maybe Dublith, maybe Aquorya. Or maybe somewhere even further still." Ed watched as the back of their cart swayed off into the tangerine-colored sunset, its shaky form slowly disappearing over a hill framed by an oval of fire._

"_Goodbye..."_

The phaeton kept on chugging, swerving around a corner and coughing its way up a steep hill. "Almost there," said Roy.

"Good," said Ed. "That last corner almost got me."

"Sorry. I don't have the best steering system here." The gear shift honked again as the car crested to a slow, meandering stop. "We're here," Roy announced abruptly. Ed listened intently as Roy got out, slammed the door and came around and opened the one on his side. He felt Roy's hand slide into his own, guiding his step to the ground.

"C'mon, can I take this thing off now?"

"Wait." He felt Roy's hands at his waist, turning him around. The intimacy of his touch sent tremors of anticipation skipping along his spine. "Now."

"Now?"

"Now."

The blindfold was lifted. It took Ed's eyes a moment to focus on the sight in front of him: a large cherry brown house with multiple stories, its many levels falling in graceful sweeps and slopes towards the ground. Sunlight flashed brightly from a multitude of floor to ceiling windows, long and slitted like cat's eyes staring into the sun. Curved, spacious porches circled and hugged each level, offering a wide expanse of outdoor space. Everything was bright and airy and open. Gray stone and dark wood flowed from wall to doorway in perfect harmony, as organically as each level proceeded into the next. It was modern in the way that the houses in Liore were not, unornamented in a way that those in Central were not. It was unique unto itself. The house, with all its smart and modern-looking sensibility, sat perfectly situated in its hollowed out valley, just as if it had always been there. _But it had not always been there. _ Because Ed knew, if he turned his head just a few degrees, then he would see the other little house up on the adjoining hill-the house with the sign _Rockbell's Automail Shop _swinging from its hinges.

"How do you like your new home, Ed?" Roy asked in a whisper.

"You built it over the old one."

"Yes."

"The one I burnt to the ground." A glimmer of wetness appeared in the corners of Ed's eyes.

Roy's face fell. "You're upset. Maybe I shouldn't have-"

"No," Ed said, cutting him off. He rubbed stubbornly at his eyes. "I'm not upset. Really. These aren't tears of unhappiness. Quite the opposite, in fact."

A smile like a low-rising flame lit up Roy's face. "Then you like it?"

"Like it? How could I not like it?"

"Hey, Ed! Roy!" They turned. Racing towards them from the other house were Alphonse and Winry. Up above them on the hill stood the ancient figure of Granny Pinako, her ever-present cane and pipe sharply outlined by shadow and sun. Winry's smile was jubilant as she waved frantically. "Ed, you're home! Ed! Ed!"

By the time she and Al had reached them, Ed was crying outright.

10.

_A few weeks later..._

The sound was driving him insane.

There was a loud, obnoxious pounding coming from the dining room, and it was driving Ed crazy. He tried to ignore it; he tried to go back to reading his book, but the sound was like nails being raked across a chalkboard: intrusive, annoying, maddening. Finally he huffed and tossed down his book and went stomping through the broad oval entrance from the library into the elongated parlor, down a short hallway and straight into the dining area. The sight which greeted him there made him freeze in the circular doorway, framing him like a cameo in dark grooved wood which-if an observer looked closely-was ringed with decorative etchings of slithering salamanders.

"What the hell are you guys doing?" Ed demanded.

Al and Winry froze comically on the ladder they were standing on. Winry had an upraised hammer in her hand; Al was holding up a banner. It simply read: _Happy Birthd-. _Those were the only words visible as half of the banner still remained furled on the ground. Ed cocked an eyebrow.

"And what do you two think you're doing?"

"Getting ready for your and Elysia's birthday party," said Winry blankly. _BAM! BAM! BAM! _Ed winced as she went back to hammering. "Why do you look so surprised? You agreed to this a week ago."

"I did?" Ed looked doubtful.

Al rolled his eyes. "Roy agreed to this. Don't you remember? You had your nose stuck in a book and you just sort of nodded your head when he said yes." _BAM! BAM! BAM!_

Ed's look clearly stated that he didn't remember any of this. He gritted his teeth as Winry continued to drive nails into the banner she and Al were hanging. Al just shook his head pityingly at Ed's perplexed expression. Ed rubbed at his temples. "Can't we cancel?"

Ed dodged the wrench that came flying in his direction. "No we can't cancel!" exclaimed Winry, waving her hammer threateningly. "Gracia and Elysia are coming up special from Central. So are Jean and Riza. Gracia is cooking you a feast, Ed. She's even doing your favorite apple pie. She's-" Ed turned and left while Winry was still talking. He was drifting back through the parlor, muttering under his breath, when he smacked right into Roy.

Roy set down the sack of groceries he was carrying. He was still wearing his top coat from outside. "Sounds like the party preparations are in full swing," he commented cheerfully.

Ed sulked. "I don't remember agreeing to any party."

The beginnings of a smirk pulled mercilessly at Roy's lips. "Don't you? You nodded yes when I asked you about it."

"Al said my nose was in a book. I probably wasn't really listening." Ed narrowed his eyes. "And I have a funny feeling that may have been on purpose."

The smirk didn't hold back this time. "It was all Gracia's idea, Ed. She wanted to cook for you on your birthday. Just like in the olden days." _Back when Maes was still alive. _Ed watched as Roy's eyes took on a familiar, distant look. He knew what Roy was thinking. Ed's scowl softened, his eyes taking on a more languid, liquid look. "You're thinking about Hughes aren't you?" he asked gently.

Roy said nothing. It didn't need to be said. "You want this party, don't you?" said Ed. "You want to see Gracia and Elysia and the rest of them again?" Ed took hold of Roy's lapels, looked into his eyes. He watched as hard sapphire blue melted into soft pools of glistening water. "You really want this?"

"Of course I do."

"Fine. Then we're partying." Ed smiled and shrugged indifferently, brushing a hand over Roy's coat. "Let them see how I've caught the most eligible bachelor in Central. They can all die of jealousy."

Roy cocked an eyebrow at this pronouncement. "That's quite a compliment. Especially coming from you. And especially now that you're being faced with the impending party of doom."

"I've been brushing up on my verbal skills. A certain someone told me I needed to do that." Ed paused. "So how am I doing do so far?"

"Quite well, I would say."

"Excellent. I'm a very good student, you know."

"Oh, I know." The smirk was back, lending Roy's response a more lascivious tone. "A real prodigy, if I recall."

"So this prodigy was thinking, after this party thing is all over with, that I would like to try brushing up on my non-verbal skills. Care to instruct me?" Ed leaned up on the balls of his feet, stopping just short of touching Roy's lips.

"I'm at your disposal, Mr. Elric. A great mind, after all, is a terrible thing to waste." Roy crossed the scant millimeters of space between them with aching slowness, teasingly building up the anticipation, before throwing himself breathlessly into the kiss. Ed staggered back into the sideboard, bumping into the bag of groceries, causing them to sway precariously on the edge of the table. The two of them kissed like it was their very first time, and paradoxically, like it was their very last. They would have kept at it if not for a persistent knocking coming from the front door.

They broke apart. "It's still too early for party goers. Tell whoever it is to bugger off," suggested Ed.

Roy hovered indecisively for a moment before turning and heading for the front door. Ed reluctantly followed. The door swung open to reveal Granny Pinako standing patiently outside. Thin ribbons of pipe smoke danced in filmy spirals around her head. "About time you answered. Whatever are you two doing in there?"

Roy and Ed exchanged a not-so-subtle look. Pinako shrugged it off. "I thought I'd come and drag Winry back for lunch. Get her outta your hair for a bit." She gave them a knowing look and stepped across the threshold but then froze. "Oh. And I found this lying on your doorstep." She reached back and pulled into view a large square package. "Looks like your first birthday present has arrived, Ed." She handed over the package, which Ed took with a perplexed expression. "I wonder who this is from?" said Ed.

A small envelope was attached. Once Ed saw the handwriting on the front of it, things instantly became clear. Ed ripped open the envelope and pulled out the small note inside. It read: _Because I'm so amazing, I was able to finish it in only two days the first time around. The second time, I took more care with it. But I'm still amazing. And the painting is, too. It will look beautiful in your new home. Happy Birthday, Chiaro. _Ed found himself grinning despite himself. "Still modest as ever," he said to no one in particular.

"Well, open it," Roy said.

"Shouldn't we wait for the party?"

"I never got to see it properly the first time," said Roy. "I want to see it. Open it!"

"Hey, just whose present is this anyway?" Despite his words, Ed began tearing at the brown packing paper that the painting was wrapped in. Roy and Pinako waited in silent anticipation. Pieces of jagged paper fell like bits of confetti to the ground. Bright gold paint shimmered enticingly under the rays of the noonday sun as the top of the painting was revealed. Color after brilliant color swam into view as Ed tore more and more of the wrapping away: lapis blue, ruby red, viridian green, tawny brown. Finally, there was Roy and Ed together, face to face on each side of the table-the light and the dark, the gold and the black, two halves of a whole. The painting was just as dazzlingly beautiful as the first time Ed saw it, but it was even better now, because it would be hanging in his home. It was his forever. _A moment caught in time. He and Roy together. A thing that would last always._

"It would have taken first prize, most assuredly," Roy proclaimed finally.

"Ah, so someone sent you a Chiaro Scuro," Granny commented with a wave of her pipe. "They must really like you to send you such a classy gift."

"How did you know it was a Chiaro Scuro, Granny?"

There was a mischievous expression on Pinako's face. "I have lived many years, Ed. And I know many things, not just automail." She turned to go into the house, presumably to fetch Winry. Roy and Ed just looked at each and shrugged.

"It's beautiful, Ed. Just like you."

"Look at the expression on my face, though. I look pissed."

"You look like yourself."

"Well, I think he got it wrong."

"Well, I think he got it exactly right." Roy put his arm around Ed, and they walked together into the house with their new painting. They could hear Al and Winry arguing about something in the dining room. Every now and then Granny would interrupt, obviously playing the referee. Ed looked up at Roy and smiled.

It really was going to be a beautiful day...

_End/Fin._


End file.
